i'm just going to go hide my face in shame now

Dream Daddy Cult Ending

Okay, so I’ve gone through Dream Daddy’s files, and have found the cult ending! I’m pretty sure you can’t actually get this ending, but I wanted to share it. I know I got frustrated trying to find it online.

CULT ENDING BELOW CUT

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Reward.

Bucky Barnes/Reader/Matt Murdock.

Warnings: SMUT.  Threesome, porn without plot, terrible writting, double penetration, oral sex (fr), unprotected sex (this is fantasy, we’re all adults. Remember that safe sex is the best sex), dirty talk, excessive use of endearments. Me being a shameless thirsty hoe.

Word Count: 3866.

Rating: 18+

Masterlist

This came up thanks to @asirenscalling because, while I was rewatching Daredevil, we started to talk about this scenario, so thank her for this.

Also @sexylibrarian1 said she needed it and @thecrownedrose because she’s amazing and we like to spoil each other. 

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anonymous asked:

So, I'm really curious as to what kind of "Awkward Romantic Crap" Keith did during the first three weeks of dating Lance when they were "boyfriends-who-don't-know-how-to-be-boyfriends" XDD Could you maybe give some examples?

I could, but, really, isn’t stuff like that sometimes best left to the imagination? ;) … Right, who am I kidding? I’m a bit sleepy, so my apologies — I’m gonna just give ya one example of Keith being an awkward turtle of a person :)


Awkward Romantic Crap, The First

Keith adores Lance a stupid amount. He spent several months contemplating (between the denying and the repressing because feelings why?) the many ways he would kiss that loudmouth into silence, give him all the reasons as to why he was wanted and valuable, not allowing him the chance to doubt himself ever again, but now they were boyfriends and Keith … He just couldn’t find the words.

So he tried with this one romantic gesture — he tried to get Lance flowers. 

Lance had no allergies (Keith sacrificed his dignity to ask Hunk), the flowers were normal and totally not flesh-eating (Keith gave up a little more pride to ask Coran for where to get a bouquet), and flowers were a thing couples did (according to Shiro, and by this point Keith sort of wanted to live inside Red and never face the team again).

So the reason why this became Awkward Romantic Crap is because Keith just could not find the right time to give them to Lance. 

There had to be some kind of special boyfriend-sense he was lacking because it never felt right to just suddenly give Lance flowers. And he really didn’t want to do it in front of the others, and his private time with Lance was hard to come by and most of it they spent feeling out their relationship and having some truly humiliating (albeit necessary) talks about boundaries or whatever.

They bouquet stayed in his room for a week, the special space blooms starting to droop. 

Until Lance came into his room, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly asking if they could have a date-night on the observation deck couch … And going mute halfway through his question when he saw the flowers.

Silence for a few seconds. Then, “Uh, who’s brought you flowers? Wait, was it that chick with the Elvis hair? Keith, Keith did you bond with another mullet? Are you … Okay, I mean, no, I’m being dumb. You can get flowers from admirers, it’s fine. Just … you could have mentioned it? Do we have to talk about this kind of stuff too? Or am I being, like, possessive if I ask you to tell me? Oh god, am I a controlling boyfriend —”

Keith shut him up with a kiss (maybe this made his heart speed up in the most awesome ways, but that didn’t negate the strategic value for getting a word in when Lance was full-ramble.) And then, trying to keep the blush down and failing, he said quickly, “They’re for you. They were … I got them, a week back, and I just … I couldn’t figure out when to give them to you?”

“A week — were you hiding them whenever we were hanging out in here?”

Keith didn’t answer except to turn even redder.

Lance wasn’t a silly jackass all of the time (though Keith actually found that silly jackass behaviour kind of fun and/or sweet because he was doomed), so he didn’t mock Keith at all — he just smiled and said, “Uh, you can give them to me now, if you want?”

Instantly, Keith reached over to the vase, pulling the flowers out, a few navy blue petals falling as he all but thrust them into Lance’s chest, the stems dripping water. “These are for you.”

“And what’s the occasion?” Lance asked, pink blossoming along his cheeks, down his neck.

“Just … just that I … I’m good with us. Now. And … happy. Because of you. So, thanks. For your existence.”

Lance’s face was doing a thing — Keith couldn’t tell if he was fighting back laughter or tears, but then two arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him into a soft yet lingering kiss. Satin petals brushed against Keith’s face as Lance still gripped the bouquet tightly.

When they both pulled away, Lance was grinning and Keith didn’t feel so awkward anymore. 

Except when his boyfriend started speaking again … “Dude, would you have just let my flowers die before you grew a spine and gave them to their rightful owner? For shame, Red, for shame.” He dragged the bouquet into the limited space between them. “Look at my precious babies! Did you change the water? You’re supposed to change the water, Keith, you can’t just —”

Keith crushed the flowers between their chests in order to gain access to that irritating (delicious) mouth. Lance wailed about his flowers even as their lips met again. Keith let Lance go long enough to get the flowers some fresh water, watching him carefully tend to the blooms that were still intact.

And then Keith dragged him in for more kisses — he was always better with actions than words. Except flower-giving, apparently. But Keith had learned that he could do that kind of romantic crap, at least once. Better luck next time — he’d give them to Lance in front of everyone, come hell or high water, damn it.

(And maybe, at some point in the future, Keith finds a few dark blue flowers pressed between the pages of an old Altean book Allura had given Lance for his birthday. 

Keith will blush again, cringe at the memory, and then kiss his boyfriend stupid when he walks through his bedroom door because he truly adores Lance a stupid amount, and Lance always appreciates his awkwardness, sees his efforts as the most sincere gestures of love, and Keith can’t help but see any mockery that did come his way as endearing. 

So doomed.)


I am off to bed, and oh so tired, but hopefully this drabble makes some kind of sense. Hope you found it both awkward and enjoyable! ;D *hugs* Many thanks for asking!

shanti-o  asked:

i usually hate these posts, because i get it, my birthday is special to literally no one on the internet but myself, so it's a dumb excuse to ask for shit, but, fuck it. it's my birthday and i'm depressed as fuck and college sucks so may i please ask you, my fandom dad, to just tell me about yuuri katsuki, anxious international student who is this close to deciding no, he can't actually do this college overseas thing, and victor nikiforov, who shows him how loved he didn't realize he is?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET BEAN.  i hope that you feel better throughout the day and that college gets better!! college was totally a void for me; i spent one year getting devastatingly trashed, and another three years Not Sleeping and trying to kill myself with work.  the good times i had in college are definitely punctuated and defined by how hard so much of it was to endure.  i’m rooting for you xx

and as far as anxious internationa studentl yuuri katsuki goes, he lives off of black coffee and spaghetti and basement pizza.  anxious international student yuuri katsuki is not doing great in classes, and maybe he doesn’t belong here, and he’s not the best at making friends, even though his one good friend and roommate, beautiful sunflower international student phichit claims all of the anonymous HEY YOU! shoutouts in the school newspaper talking about Cute Boy Asleep Under Table In Student Union Building or the Hotchkin Hall Hotass are referring to him.  beautiful sunflower international student phichit tries to get him to loosen up and takes him out to a party and gives him two blue pills with little dolphins on them that yuuri chases with a plastic cup of shitty sweet american lager, except instead of getting yuuri to loosen up, he ends up having a panic attack and laying down on the wet, cold concrete of the sidewalk outside just to feel something cool, which is how beautiful TA victor nikiforov finds him.  

it’s really embarrassing to talk to someone like beautiful TA victor nikiforov for the first time while soaked to the bone and rolling your nuts off.  yuuri has one class three days a week where victor helps, and yuuri always sits in the very back behind someone he’s sure stands at a height that makes participation on the school basketball team mandatory.  yuuri katsuki does not dare fly too close to the sun.  (maybe someday, he thinks, when they’re older they’ll both be at a conference together, and victor will recognize him across a crowded hotel lobby.  “you wrote those papers,” victor will say, “years and years ago.  i always drew smiley faces on the top in red marker,” because he does, and yuuri likes to pretend that he doesn’t do that with anyone else’s papers.)

despite what being in close proximity to beautiful TA victor nikiforov does to his heart rate, beautiful TA victor nikiforov manages to talk to him in a calm, engaging and funny way, and lets yuuri word vomit in return, and beautiful TA victor nikiforov eventually escorts yuuri back to the international house off campus.  

it is the next morning that yuuri realizes, with great shame, he must either change his major or leave the school entirely, because he cannot spend any more time in the presence of beautiful TA victor nikiforov.  

he ends up dropping the class and losing the credit.  he just can’t– he can’t go back to that class.  if he stays at this school past the end of the year, he’ll make the credit up somehow.  but right now he just, he can’t.  

it’s two and a half months later when he’s still there for winter break, not wanting to waste money on a flight home.  he’s walking through the slush to get dinner on christmas eve alone.  this is when he runs into beautiful TA victor nikiforov again.

beautiful TA victor nikiforov is very sad that anxious international student yuuri katsuki dropped his class! after yuuri left there was nothing to look forward to between one and three on mondays, wednesdays and thursdays!  why would you abandon me, yuuri? beautiful TA victor nikiforov (call me victor!) says, practically running him over when he sees yuuri across the street.  anxious international student yuuri katsuki doesn’t know what to say, except, “i’m going to get dinner, would you–?”

which is how they end up at a KFC at nine at night on christmas eve.  

“in japan, christmas is a romantic holiday,” yuuri says, realizing out loud.  “a lot of couples come to places like KFC, it just felt–”

“oh, is this a date, yuuri?” victor asks.  his voice sounds teasing, but when yuuri tries to jump up from the table and hide in a trash can, victor grabs his hand and looks him in the eye and it feels very serious.  “it’s okay if it’s a date, yuuri.”

“o-oh?” yuuri says.  

(and then, idk???? idk where i’m going with this.  yuuri does body shots of KFC gravy off of victor in the mens room?  like, why not, right? anyway, i hope you feel better!!) 

Headcanon that Todoroki rarely get sick. When he did, he always tried to hide it and slept it away. But not this time. (This actually became a full fledged fic so you can read it here on ao3 or right below)

‘Todoroki-kun, aren’t you cold?’

'No.’


'Man, aren’t you hot in there?’

'No.’


When class 1A managed to have a look inside Todoroki’s wardrobe, they were in for a surprise.

There were nothing but shirts and trousers of different colors. One or two light blue jackets dotted on the left side but that was it.

Clothes suitable for an autumn morning stroll in the park. Hardly optimal choices for the blistering hot summer or biting cold winter.

Todoroki explained between stifled yawns and subtle glances to the futon that he could regulate his own body temperature, therefore had no need for seasonal clothing before ushering them out so he could sleep.

Class 1A all agreed on one thing when they gathered back down the communal area.

Todoroki’s quirk was the coolest!


Todoroki found himself boxed on his left side on movie nights during winter time and on his right side during summer classes though it was a mad dash to be the first to reach his right side. The unlucky ones that couldn’t be the first settled for ice-creams and cold bottled water, giving the lucky one and Todoroki, who was not sweating a drop, sting eyes.

So when Hagakure, the lucky one of the day sitting with her back to Todoroki’s right side, commented on how warm his right side was, it garnered the attention of everyone in class.

Todoroki’s control over his quirk was uncanny.

Between finding a five-leaf clover and Todoroki messing up the control of his quirk, you have a far better chance of finding a field of five-leaf clovers.

A vague ‘Sorry’ came from Todoroki and Hagukure’s sigh of contentment sent the rest of the class back into an envious mob.

That was the first sign of trouble they failed to notice.


‘Midoriya-san, do you know where Todoroki-san is?’ Yaoyorozu’s clear voice made him jump in his seat and consequently drew a diagonal line over his hero costume sketch.

‘Uhm, no?’ He hurriedly closed the notebook. Not that he didn’t want her to see, he was just uncomfortable with showing his hero notebook to anyone other than Uraraka and Ida. He flustered a little when she raised an eyebrow but steeled his nerves to ask. ‘Why do you ask?’

Why ask me?

‘Out of everyone, you are closest to him so I thought you would know,’ Yaoyoruzu answered his unasked question first. ‘It’s rare to see him miss a class.’ She mumbled mostly to herself but Izuku caught it any way and had to frown.

‘I don’t know. Sorry.’ Izuku offered a helpless smile even as he dissolved into a muttering tirade. It was true. Todoroki was probably the most diligent when it came to classwork, just right after Iida. No one could compete with Iida when it came to school work any way, the guy was on a different level. It was unusual rather than rare for Todoroki to skip class, especially hero class. There must be something serious enough, something more important than training to keep him occupied. But what could that possibly be? He was kidnapped? Possible but a little far-fetched considering they all were staying at UA dorm with over-the-top securities. Then he must not be at the dorm then. If so where could he be? No, that’s not true, Izuku backtracked. He definitely saw Todoroki this morning in the kitchen area with a glass of water before his attention was drawn back to Uraraka’s floating an inch above the floor omelette.

Sometime during his mutter, Yaoyoruzu must have left, but he was too occupied to paid her any attention.


His mind whirred with different scenarios as he hastily jogged back to the dorm. Next class was modern literature and also the last for the day so he wouldn’t be in any serious trouble. Todoroki was more of a concern now.

Something happened to his family? Maybe it was his mother? Or Endeavor? Something pissed his father off enough for him to come to UA dorm to drag his son back home to train until all his bones were broken and blisters dotted his body? Oh god no please let it not be Endeavor. Todoroki’s relationship with his father might be more mutual respect than outright hatred now but who knows what might happen with Endeavor’s temperament.

Please let it not be Endeavor.

Please not Endeavor.

Anyone but Endeavor.

Please not Endeavor!

Todoroki-kun!’ Izuku swung the door to the dorm open with enough force to send the reinforced quadruple-layered glass rattling against the wall and called out as loud as his voice permitted.

Silence greeted him. Cold that had nothing to do with Todoroki’s quirk slowly wrapped around his heart.

Izuku bolted to Todoroki’s room. The door was unlocked but no signs of a break in could be seen. Todoroki was nowhere to be seen. Scouting every floor also gained no result of his whereabouts.

The kitchen area was empty as well. Izuku checked every cupboards and cabinets, even in the fridge and under the dining table.

He found himself back in the common room and was searching in All Might’s contact in his phone with shaking fingers when an out of place sound, too quiet to be heard over the pounding of his heart, caught his attention.

Izuku took a deep breath to calm his frantically beating heart and listened.

There it was. A gasp, then a second later, a soft, pained 'no’.

It was coming from the gap between the sofa and the wall.

Izuku carefully made his way over. 'Todoroki-kun…?’ He hesitantly said, not wanting to spook his friend. His thought started to drift into the lines of why Todoroki was hiding behind a sofa for he was definitely hiding from something.

All he got in response was a muffled cry of pain.

The cold around his heart that had started to melt seconds ago was returning faster and planting its root deeper.

Izuku had never, ever, heard Todoroki made such a pitiful noise.

Something was seriously wrong.

He peeked through the gap and found Todoroki sitting with his back against the wall, legs drawn up and head resting on the knees.

It looked like he was sleeping but his breath was coming out in short gasps, a mixture of steam and hot breath. A sheen of perspiration covered his face and neck.

Izuku carefully sneaked in a hand to feel his temperature and had to smother an alarm yelp.

His forehead was as hot as scalding water, even his right side felt as hot as a car left under the summer sun for hours. Had Todoroki been hiding his fever for days? Not to mention he even came to class yesterday! A fever as severe as this didn’t just develop overnight!

Todoroki shied away from his touch and tried to scoot further away but ended up toppling over.

Without fanfare, Izuku pushed the sofa away and kneeled down besides his friend.

'Come on, Todoroki-kun, we need to get you to Recover Girl.’ He said, swinging an arm around Todoroki to support him up, tears gathering in his eyes of fear and frustration.

Todoroki put up a pitiful fight, ice trying to form before immediately melting away and steaming up. 'No…, please…., stop…’ He mumbled, prying weakly at Izuku’s hold.

'Todoroki-kun, please, let me help!’ Izuku all but begged, desperately adding more force to his hold to still his squirming friend.

'No…, no…’ Todoroki shook his head weakly. 'Stop… Please…. Father…’

Izuku’s hold on his tears faltered and that was all it took for him to cry now. Todoroki was too delirious to tell the difference between reality and dreamscape. For now, he was not at the US dorm anymore but back to the horror and fear his childhood held.

'You are not with your father, Todoroki-kun. You are safe.’ Izuku bit back a choked sob and said forcefully. That was the point he needed to drive home first. 'I’m Midoriya Izuku. And you are going to get better, okay? Please, please, just let me help.’ Izuku rocked them from side to side, not knowing anything better to help.

Todoroki’s movements quietened down. He finally cracked open an eye, the blue one, to blearily blink at Izuku. The intelligence it usually held now lost to the haze of sickness and delirium.

It took Todoroki three minutes to recognize him.

'Mi-dori-ya-?’ He said brokenly, gasping for air when he finished.

'Yeah, it’s me.’ Izuku smiled encouragingly through his tears. 'I'n going to take you to the infirmary now, okay?’

Todoroki bobbed his head in consent and Izuku flew into action. He had Todoroki in piggy back style and was out of the dorm in a matter of seconds. His friend felt like a sack of burning coal on his back, incoherent mumble hot against his right cheek.

Todoroki was prideful and for him to accept help with no deliberation; it spoke volume how severe his fever was. Izuku just hoped he hadn’t arrived too late.

His footsteps dented the ground.


The news about Todoroki staying in the hospital was quick to spread around class.

Izuku found himself the center of worried questions and a crying Hagakure. Under any other circumstances, he would be dying of shame right on the spot. Right now he was just too tired to care.

'And I asked him to cool down.’ Hagakure cried in earnest, wet sobs echoing the solemn room.

'There, there Hagakure-chan.’ Mina padded her back understandingly, wiping away the tears with a tissue. 'We can all visit him tomorrow.’ She added brightly.

'About that-’ Izuku shifted in his spot uncomfortably all eyes fell on him. ‘-We can’t.’

His statement was met with varying degree of bewilderment.

'What do you mean by that, Midoriya-kun?’ Iida asked, doing that small chopping hand motion that told how nervous he was.

'Patient request,’ Recover Girl had said when Midoriya tried to step back in after she finished her treatment half an hour after he brought Todoroki in.

'He needs as much rest as he can, so I think it’s best that we not disturb him.’ He half-lied, twisting his scarred hands.

'You are absolutely right, Deku-kun.’ Uraraka accepted his explanation easily. ‘Oh, I know!’ She exclaimed for the whole class to hear. 'Let’s organize a welcoming party when Todoroki-kun is released from the hospital!’

Her suggestion was met with a round of delighted 'Yes’ and a watery one from Hagakure.

As the girls moved away to start on their planning, Kirishima released a forlorn sigh.

'Even our strongest can get a fever.’

'That is exactly why we need to dress for the season and pay attention to our health!’ Iida pronounced with wider, more prominent arm chops. 'Summer is the season of fever and heatstroke. It is important that we consume enough water to stay hydrated. I suggest we take turn-’

No one was actually listening to Iida anymore since they were all busy staring at each other in muted realization.

'Speaking of 'dress for the season’, do you remember the state of Todoroki’s wardrobe?’ Kaminari asked everyone on a whole, voicing their exact same thought.


Two days later, Shouto was cleared to return to the dorm with instruction to drink a cup of water every hour and lay off of exercising for at least a week. As if he would listen.

He could have left the day before but a disapproving scolding from Recovery Girl convinced him to obey just so he wouldn’t go deaf in the ears.

The dorm was devoid of anyone’s presence, which was strange considered it being a Friday night.

Maybe they all needed to be somewhere else. Definitely not a villain though, Shouto would have been the first to know. Endeavor made it his life purpose to drag Shouto to every villain crime scene to show him how stupid he had been for refusing to use his left side.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, laughter and talking started to fill the hall way and they all stopped dead at the sight of him leaning against the countertop in the kitchen.

Asui was the first to break the silence.

'Are you feeling well, Todoroki-chan, ribbit?’

'Yes, a bit dizzy but I am better now.’ He opened the top right cabinet where he stashed his tea leaves. 'Thank you for asking.’

'Oh no, you need to rest more Todoroki-kun!’ Uraraka said, unreasonably happy that he needed to look to make sure his hearing was not deceiving him.

Why was she happy at the fact that he needed more rest?

And it seemed she was not the only one. All the girls looked incredibly happy and delighted.

Something was definitely going on and he was not privy to it.

'Come now Ice Prince, let’s get you back to your room.’ Hagakure and Mina sudden appearance at his back did not startled him at all. Not at all.

'Ice Prince?’ He echoed, so caught of guard that the two girls could push him up five flights of stairs and into his room easily.

'Well then, off to bed with you.’ Mina sang happily, skipping away down the stairs.

'Wait, I still need to get the tea-’ Shouto added as his wit came back to him.

'No worries, someone will bring it up for you!’ Mina called out from the stairs as the sound of her steps faded away.

It took him a minute to realize he only heard one set of footstep moving away while there had been two that escorted him up.

'Can I help you with anything, Hagakure-san?’ He directed his gaze to the half closed door where he could see a flash of brown shorts in mid-air.

'Uhm.’ She pushed the door open wider and stepped in, fully facing him. 'I’m very sorry that I asked you to use your quirk that day.’ She sounded guilty and judging from the way her clothes move, she must be bowing.

Shouto’s mind took a while to remember what she was referring to. His brain was irritatingly slow tonight.

Ah. That. Frankly, he had forgotten that that had taken place.

'It’s alright. I didn’t mind. You are not at fault.’ He was awful at understanding emotions and even worse at displaying them. He hoped he conveyed his forgiveness well enough this time.

'You sure?’ She asked hesitantly, rising up from the half-bow with what would have been a quizzical look if she had not been invisible.

'Yes.’

'Oh. Uhm, thank you.’ Her socks and shoes twitched around. A sign of nervousness. 'I’ll leave you to your rest, Todoroki-kun.’ She closed the door to his room and quickly walked away.

Shouto stared at the door for a moment then made a beeline for the table, taking out assorted notebooks and pens.

He shook his head a little to clear away the dark spots from his eyes.

He truly hadn’t gotten back to full health.

No matter. As long as he didn’t do anything physically exerting, he should be fine. And catching up on schoolwork could hardly be considered physical activity.


An hour and a half later, Shouto was forced to put down his pen as words swam around his field of vision.

He had had fever a few times before but never this terrible. Most of the time he just slept them away. He tried to did the same for this but apparently it had not work.

Maybe a cup of tea would help, he thought as the world turned topsy turvy as he stood up. Tea would be very appreciated now.

He padded over to his wardrobe to look for a pair of more comfortable indoor slippers.

And had to close it at the sight that greeted him.

Had the fever gotten to his brain?

No, not plausible.  

But he just saw some eye-watering neon green. In his own wardrobe. And he absolutely despised everything with color that bright and revulsive and made sure to never own a single piece of clothing in that color.

Shoutouts hesitantly opened it again, ice ready to freeze whoever was hiding in his wardrobe.

No one was inside but that did nothing to explain the state his wardrobe was in.

It was definitely more rainbow-y than the last time he checked. And with more variety of garments.

He spied black leather jacket, mustard insulated trousers, some plain looking jeans shorts, hoodies, sweaters, polo shirts, and even a rather expensive looking woollen long coat. The neon green belonged to a pair of mittens. All with tags attached but the price had been removed.

Most certainly not the work of his stupid old man.

It could have been Fuyumi but she knew better than to get him anything of bright colors.

That left only one other person, and knowing him, he would be down in the front yard training, on the way to the kitchen.

Perfect. He could get his tea and then started interrogating.

Someone had some explaining to do.


‘He is coming!’

‘What!? No, not yet. I’m not finished!’

‘Quickly, he’s on the first set of stairs!’

‘Just shove it in the cabinet or something!’

‘Eeeehhhh!?’

‘Fucking leave it and hide behind the fucking chair!’

‘Ouch, unharden your elbow, you’re poking my ribs!’

‘Sorry.’

‘Why do I keep attracting small pieces of paper?

‘Ah, my bad.’

‘Everyone, remain quiet!’

‘You are the only one being noisy, ribbit


The kitchen was dark when Shouto came in but he could hear muffled sound coming from somewhere. Probably they were watching horror film and needed all the darkness they could have.

He flipped the switch and suddenly he was showered in light, sound and confetti. So much that his brain could not process anything and the first thing that came out of his mouth was ‘I need my tea.’

Surprised snorts appeared amidst the gathering of his classmates and he soon found himself nudged, pulled and sat down on the central sofa with blanket draped over his shoulders and a hot cup of tea in his hands.

He took a sip to bring his mind back into operation.

Banners saying things like ‘Get well soon’, ‘Welcome back!’ hung from the ceiling across the floor-to-ceiling glass window. Food and drinks covered every available space of the small coffee table and Shouto suspected that there were a lot more waiting in the connected kitchen and maybe even Satou’s room.

It didn’t escape his attention that all the food and drinks were rather very Japanese and heavily focused on cold soba and tea.

He looked around, noting his classmates’ eager faces and guessed it was time he put his two cents in.

‘It’s nice. Whatever for?’

Collective exasperated sigh made Shouto wanted to retract his words, but knowing his socially-stunted self, his second attempt would only be catastrophic so he kept quiet.

‘Well it’s a get well party. For you.’ Sero explained from his perch on the back of the sofa, taking the initiative.

‘I get that but why?’ Shouto hardly considered his wellbeing the reason, in and of itself, for a celebration.

‘Just fucking get it over with, you half-and-half bastard!’ Bakugou (his presence here was a surprise to Shouto) kicked out a chair from the kitchen table and explosively sat down, ignoring others’ disapproving stares.

‘What Kacchan was trying to say is that we are very glad that you are well again, Todoroki-kun.’ Midoriya chimed in hastily, doing damage control before things got out of hand and dissolved into quirk fight.

Shouto was at a loss for word. What should he say to that?

‘Uhm, thank you?’ It came out more of a question than an expression of gratitude but Midoriya beamed anyway.

‘Let’s eat everyone.’ He announced happily, diving for two mochis right off the bait and dropped one into Shouto’s cupped hands while biting into the other, coughing as he got too much powder in his airway.


The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Shouto vaguely remembered staring in silent wonder as Bakugou dumped spoonful after spoonful of shichimi into his bowl of soba, all the while spitting curses at Kirishima.

He himself got offered a lot of food, his portions were always noticeably larger than everyone else.

As the night dwindled down into small talks and desserts, Shouto slunk away from the crowd to make himself another cup of tea. He passed Midoriya and tapped him on the shoulder. Midoriya took the cue and followed him into the back yard.

It was a pleasant night as far as summer nights went. The moon was still high up, casting silver light on the grass.

‘You want to talk, Todoroki-kun?’ Midoriya ventured tentatively from behind him.

‘All this.’ He shrugged one shoulder in the direction of the brightly lit communal room, not bothering to face Midoriya fully. ‘Did you plan all this?’

‘Ah, no. Everyone just sort of wants to throw you a party. We plan it together.’

‘I see. And the wardrobe?’ Shouto didn’t need to turn around to know that Midoriya’s face had turned bright red.

‘That was Kirishima-kun’s idea. But we all pitched in so don’t be mad at him!’ Frantic hand waving. ‘I tried to tell them not to take anything too brightly colored but they all thought it was a good chance to reinvent your wardrobe. It was such a terrible idea. And we went into your room without your permission. Oh god, we went into your room without permission! Your room! Without permission! I’m so sorry, Todoroki-kun! I am terribly-‘

‘Midoriya.’ Shouto cut in sharply and turned to face the other boy. He waited until Midoriya looked up from his bow and injected every bit of sincerity into his next words. ‘Thank you.’

Thank you for helping me.

Thank you for not telling everyone.  

Thank you for respecting my wish.

Thank you for caring.

Midoriya straightened from his bow and smiled brilliantly at him.

‘You are very welcome, Todoroki-kun.’

He hesitantly returned the smile with the upturn of his lips and marched back inside, Midoriya staying in the same pace as him.


’Should we wake him up?’

’Nah, let him sleep.’

‘But it’s going to be uncomfortable as hell.’

‘No worries, I’ve got this. You two, push the sofa over here. Quietly.’

‘I’m grabbing a pillow from my room.’

‘Good idea.’

‘There, that should do it.’

‘Are we going to leave him alone down here?’

‘No way! We’re staying here and watching movies till dawn. Everyone with me?’

‘Ayee!’

‘So we should do some quick clean up then.

‘Here, let me help.’

‘Bakugou, move over if you’re not gonna help.’

‘HUH? WHO THE FUCK Y-UMPH UMPH.’

Rustle from the central sofa had them hold their breath but Todoroki just snuggled deeper into his blanket.

‘Thank you Sero.’

‘No prob.’

‘Walk quietly everyone. We don’t want to wake him up.’

My headcanon collection

Four Word

@stylishmuser asked for “I really need you” . Thank you so much for asking love! And thank you so much for @fuckzarry for being my beta reader! I love you both very much a lot.

There’s a lot drama here:


Sometimes it was all too much. And this time, you couldn’t handle anymore.

Being Harry’s significant other was never an easy task, but sometimes it was too much. Specially because despite all the hype and all the things that people said about him, at the end of the day he was a real-life human. He had feelings, and sometimes he messed up.

One of the hardest things ever was see other women’s name linked to him in headlines in different sites all over the internet: The cheating rumours, the break up rumours, the “He’s not so interested in her anymore” rumours… it was a huge variety of subjects that people came up with and for you to deal.

Alone.

What people didn’t know – and you would never tell – is that Harry wasn’t that perfect boyfriend that everyone talks and dreams with. Not because he didn’t want to, of course, but just because he couldn’t. Sometimes he didn’t have time to have a proper meal in the middle of a rush day, running from one place to another, and then to another, flying oceans to be in different places in the space of 10 hours.  

Sometimes days went by without you and him talking on the phone or answering each other’s text, and the only way for you to listen to his voice was listening to his songs, or maybe watching the interviews and concert’s videos on twitter timeline.

Sometimes your boyfriend was a completely strange to you.

Sometimes you thought that you couldn’t handle it.

This time you were sure about that.

Your hands were shaking and you weren’t sure about how you would say this to him. Harry came to your home for a night only, since he was flying back on the next morning. You could hear the water run in the bathroom, while he was quietly having a shower.

You rehearsed the words repeatedly, but you couldn’t ever find an easy way do to it. Since the first time you met him, you knew that you couldn’t ever ask him to choose between you and his career – and you never would do that too – and at this point, you were feeling more like a holdback than a supporter that you should be.

He was doing so well, with sold-out tours all around the world, a movie coming out, a new top chart album and all the plans he had for the next years… and it was clear for you that you hadn’t a place in the middle of all this.

You tensed all your body when you heard the bathroom door opening and saw Harry coming to the room, his skin warm and wet from the shower. He was wearing a pink towel around his hips and by the look on his face, he had no intentions of putting a boxer on.

“Hey pet, what’s wrong?” He said frowning at you, climbing in bed behind you and kissing your neck.

“We need to talk,” your voice was almost a whisper, butterflies dead on your stomach, a heavy feeling on your chest. Harry nodded and you turned over to him, watching his tired green eyes looking into yours, patiently. It took a minute or two until you could recollect your feelings and say, “I think we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

“What?”  Harry said in a high-pitched voice, confused like you were talking a different language. “What are you talking about, pet?” He said putting his hand in your face, and once again it was all too much.

You got up from the bed and closed your eyes, feeling tears burning your eyes and your throat closing around the next words you had to say. You planned to make this quick, so you wouldn’t have time to regret it or think too much.

“I don’t want to be with you anymore, Harry. We need to break up.” You said again firmly, and Harry was frozen, staring at your eyes as if he could see inside your soul.

And he could.

“Where is this coming from, pet? Is it because of the last headline about Tess? You know I would never che-“

“It’s not because of that, Harry. I know you would never cheat on me. You don’t even have time for that.” You said looking at your bare feet, already regretting it. You should have done this over the phone. You shouldn’t have waited until you had a sad, tired eyes, wet and naked Harry in your bed.

“Then what’s it fo’ pet? I don’t understand…” Harry got up from the bed and stopped in front of you, letting his hands fall to his sides when he tried to reach for you, but you gave a step back. You would burst in flames and tears if he touched you in that moment, but you needed to be firm in your choice.

“Please don’t make this harder,” you whispered to him, avoiding his eyes.

“Tell me the reason,” he said after a minute, sitting again on the edge of the bed. “If you’re going to break up with me this suddenly, you need to have a good reason to do it. And I deserve to know. Tell me and I’ll leave.”

Sometimes it was all too much. Feeling the tears running down your face against your will, you knew that he was right, that this all was very sudden, that you really needed a good reason to do it, and that he deserved to know.

“You’re gonna laugh,” you said with a sad smile, but his eyes kept too serious, too tired.

“It’s not a funny moment actually.” He said and felt your cheeks red with shame for making a joke in a moment like that.

“Okay then…” You whispered and took another deep breath, looking into his eyes, “I feel like I’m a holdback in your life right now and there’s not much you can say that can change this. I just feel like… I don’t see a future. You’re super important and you’re doing equally important things right now and this is awesome, but I don’t see how we can be together in the middle of all this. I love you, please don’t ever think that I don’t. And just because I love you this much I feel like I need to let you go, because you deserve all the things that you have conquered till now with hard work, and I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

You chocked with tears, looking at the floor again, wishing that someone could invent a machine that erase painful memories, so you could delete this moment from your mind forever.

Harry was watching you, measuring every word you said like he was tasting them, feeling how bitter they taste was in your tongue, in the back of your throat.

“Bullshit,” he said after a minute, getting up again, “All you said is bullshit. What the fuck is wrong with you, pet?” And then his eyes were tired and annoyed.

“Well, Harry is the way I feel.” You said defensively, putting your arms around you as if it was cold.

“I understand that, and I know that lately stuff has been especially difficult to you but it’s bullshit when you said that we don’t have a place in the future. You are my future.  I know you are too good for me and that I’m not being the best boyfriend that exist on this planet but fuck… I really need you.” Harry ran his fingers through his wet hair, frustrated with all of this. “I don’t know what I can do for you to understand how much I love you but let’s just… try again? It all will be better in a few weeks…”

Harry looked at you, waiting for your answer, and all you could do was breathe quickly, trying to make your heart beat slower so you could come with a rational answer. You loved Harry and all the things he said were true. He would have less promo in the next weeks and then he would have a small tour, where you would be able to see him in many places and dates. Next year would be a mess, but it was too soon to worry about that yet.

“I feel like… I’m so ashamed, Harry. I’m so afraid to be a bad thing in the middle of all the good ones that are happening to you.” You said hiding your face in your hands, feeling Harry’s warm body around you a second later, his lips on your forehead, reassuring your crying.

“I love you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, please keep this in mind, don’t you ever forget about that.” He whispered softly, walking with you in his arms and falling in the bed, turning off the lights so you both could rest.

“You won’t be here tomorrow, and I don’t know how to not feel like this.” You whispered with your face nuzzled on his neck, tears running down your face to his skin. He kissed your forehead again, rubbing his lips on your skin till your tears ceased and you fell asleep, just to wake up in the morning with a headache and an empty space next to you on the bed, to match with the emptiness inside your chest.




(sorry)

anonymous asked:

I love your writing so much if you're still doing robron prompts could you do the first time they get heckled in the street by homophobes for like holding hands or kissing or something and who you'd think would react worse I'm in a really angsty mood and want to make myself cry ahaa

It’s a completely normal, average day when it happens. They’re in Tesco, Aaron leaning on the trolley as they browse the aisles, aimlessly chatting about what they want for dinner, and if they should get some beers in (Aaron is talking about how he fancies a barbecue, the weather was supposed to be good that weekend, and there was nothing like some burgers and an endless supply of beer in the sun to start a weekend right.)

“You forgot your biscuits,” Robert said, depositing a double pack of chocolate bourbons into their trolley, leaning in to press a kiss to Aaron’s lips. It was something he’d done a thousand times in public now, less and less anxiety about being open, and proud of who he was and who he was married to sitting heavily in his chest.

And then he hears it.

“That’s disgusting, right where people can see n’all. Have they got no shame?”

Robert freezes.

Robert freezes, and feels sick to his stomach as the words ring in his mind, the world spinning around him as he looks around for the source of the comment. Theres another man, standing by the biscuits, a friend in tow, and he’s looking at them with genuine disgust in his eyes.

“You want to say that again?” Aaron was defensive immediately, face red and hands balled into fists as he glares at the stranger. “Go on, I fucking dare ya, say it again.”

Before the stranger could make another comment, there’s a manager standing between them, a young looking woman who tries her best to ease the situation before gets out of hand.

Robert stands, frozen, as the manager tries to direct the stranger on, tries to placate Aaron with kind words and the promise of a money off voucher for their shopping.

“I don’t want a voucher,” Aaron is trying to be calm, but anger oozes from his every pore, every inch of him. He’s practically bristling, ready for a fight, ready to defend himself and their marriage. “I want to do my shopping with my husband and not have ignorant pricks like ‘im try and tell me I’m disgusting.”

He’s standing up for them.

He’s standing up for them, both of them, and Robert’s frozen to his spot on the aisle, one hand gripping the cool metal of the trolley slightly. Robert can only watch, as Aaron has a few more words with the manager and accepts her apology with a furrowed brow, and Robert’s barely even able to put one foot in front of the other as they head for the checkouts, Aaron giving him a worried look as he hands his card over, paying for the shopping Robert had haphazardly thrown into the trolley.

He doesn’t even really remember doing it.

All he remembers is those strangers words.

Disgusting.

Right where people can see.

Have they no shame?

Disgusting.

“Robert?” Aaron’s hands are on his face now, familiar hands on his cheeks, his neck, something that should make him feel calm, feel safe, but he just wants to panic, is afraid that stranger might be close by, might say something, or God, do something -

“I froze,” Robert blurted, hating how upset he felt, hating how he couldn’t react. “I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, and I took it.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to say anything,” Aaron shook his head. “We don’t have to defend what we have to any ignorant bastard who can’t keep his mouth shut in Tesco. Yeah? You don’t need to defend us to anyone.”

“But you did,” Robert mumbled, throat thick with tears he was refusing to cry. He wasn’t going to break down in a Tesco fucking carpark, with a bag of oranges in one hand and a trolley half full of beer next to him.

“You know me, always looking for a fight,” Aaron tried to joke, prising the shopping Robert was holding from him, dumping it in the boot. “It’s okay, Robert - I get how terrifying it can be to have someone be like that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” Aaron’s voice was soft, tired, as though he’d been through this a thousand times. “I’ve been out for a lot longer than you have.”

Of course.

“Does it ever hurt less?” Robert asked, gaze dropping to the floor, to his shoes, the concrete he was standing on suddenly very interesting.

“No.”

Robert looked up sharply, the sick feeling rising in his stomach again. Was this going to be the rest of his life, off hand comments in Tesco telling him he was disgusting for loving another man and daring to not be ashamed of it?

“But you get a thick skin,” Aaron said, emptying the last of their shopping into the boot. “And no one, no one is ever going to make me feel ashamed of loving you, I’m not to let them win.”

Robert imagined for a second, what it would feel like to hide, to be ashamed again, to keep his love, his husband behind closed doors, to only love him where no one else could see, and he held his head a little higher, stood a little prouder. 

“I’m not letting them win either,” Robert declared, giving Aaron’s hip a squeeze, reaching into his trouser pocket for the car keys, not caring who saw. “I’m proud of who we are.”

dat-imagine-tho  asked:

I just thought of something sad. I'm picturing a neglected child Severus and, well most children who are neglected (physically; who go without food) tend to hide food. Now all I'm thinking of is baby First Year Sev pocketing food from the Great Hall and hiding it under his pillow in his dorm.

Severus had never seen so much food in his entire life.  Even the meager grocery shop down the street (where he’d nicked more than a couple loaves of bread when there was no money and his stomach has won out over his sense of morality), was a pittance in comparison.

He ate as slowly as he dared, hiding bits of food in his napkin when he felt no eyes on him. Oddly enough, he had barely any appetite, though he gorged himself anyway.  Lucius Malfoy had known his name! Severus had swelled with pride at that.  Pureblooded families stuck together, even disgraced Pureblooded families it seemed.  Probably due to how few offspring there were.  He knew at once that his mother had called in a favor. Abraxas Malfoy, who his mother had spoken about in reverent tones, had come through.  But first thing first.  Food.  As much of it as he could carry back to his dorm room without being spotted.  Severus had already managed a halfway serviceable Stasis Charm earlier that evening while practicing spells with Lily.  They would show Hogwarts who the best first year students would be.  He was certain that Lily, with her knack for instinctive magic, would be a natural at charms.  She practically breathed magic.  Severus’ magic, however, was always so reactive- only when he’d been provoked to the breaking point, which sadly never took long.  The first time he’d tried the Stasis Charm, he’d burnt his subject (a discarded crisp) to ash.  However, with enough control over his emotions, he was able to get it to levitate in the Stasis Bubble quite well indeed.

Severus was glad that he’d set aside part of his trunk to be a pantry.

He’d read about the feasts at Hogwarts, of course. He’d dreamed of them while sitting on the roof and looking at the stars in the summer, his father thundering with drunken rage in the house below.  He’d imagined the flavors he’d sample when he’d forced himself to shove something putrid and boiled down his throat without any sauce to mask the earthy flavor of rot.  He’d seen pictures on the front page of the Prophet, the one that his father did not know his mother had a lifetime subscription for, as she burned them in the stove as soon as both she and Severus had read them.

But now, under the guise of wiping his mouth on his napkin, Severus instead ferreted away plenty of food, folding the napkin into his pockets (his mother had done the Undetectable Extension Charm work on them), and strode off to his dorm, hoping to get there before anything got too mashed up.

He did not see the outstretched foot on the ground.

Severus fell on his face, instantly feeling the wetness of various pilfered food items staining through his robes into his underthings.

“Hahahaha, looks like you’re already off to a terrible start as a wizard, Snivellus!” shouted the boy with the crazy black hair and Gryffindor robes- a boy who Severus recognized from the train.  His looks were unmistakeable- his thick, regal hair and nose were obviously inherited from the Black family, so he must be the black sheep of the family with some star name or other, as the Blacks were wont to do.  Another Gryffindor boy, who had flat, black hair, but who was apparently halfway through the motion of trying to make it look messy, joined in laughing, and Severus soon felt his face go scarlet with shame. He looked up to see that Lucius was looking back at him, his mouth half-curled into a sneer.  Severus could see his status going up in smoke after less than a day. 

His mother was going to be so disappointed in him.

He turned back to the jeering Gryffindors, his fury pouring from him in waves, and pointed his wand.

“STUPEFY!” he shouted, and both of the boys flew back so quickly that they slammed against the far wall and stuck there. Severus stood with his legs spread out, his head bent forward. He breathed in slowly, feeling his heartbeat going back to normal.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Severus looked through his greasy hair at the handsome seventh year Slytherin.

“Impressive,” Lucius said, his proud face still filled with mild surprise, “My father was right, you are one to look out for.  As for you two….ten points from Gryffindor…each.  I daresay that Gryffindor is starting out at a negative this year.”

With a chuckle, Lucius turned and let Severus catch up to him.

“My…robes,” Severus mumbled, still feeling a bit of humiliation as the mess dripped coldly down his leg.

“Do not worry,” Lucius said, waving his hand dismissively. “Use the House Elves. When you get back to your room, just call for Hogwarts House Elf Room Service, then tell them what you want. They also deliver midnight snacks if you find yourself peckish, though don’t overuse them or you’ll get scolded by the professors. Not Slughorn, though.  He’ll just take some of it if he catches you.”

Severus knew he was staring with his mouth agape, but Lucius seemed amused by this.

“You’re rather skinny, Snape,” he said with a soft chuckle that sounded undeniably cultured. “I should hope you take ample advantage.”

Snape smiled, then, and he could feel the joy growing in his heart, even if it was small and tentative and he did not know if it would last.  He would have food whenever he wished, and he had successfully convinced Malfoy that he was worth mentoring.  Plus, it didn’t hurt that those two Gryffindors were still stuck to the wall, their respective pride more bruised than anything else.

Severus had an entire hot fudge sundae before going to bed, his eyes only opening halfway through the night when a House Elf popped into the room with his clean and pressed school robes hanging on a cedar hanger.

Severus smiled as he drifted back to sleep.  Oh yes,  Slytherin truly was the best House after all.

Growing Together

There we go. I can’t believe I did it. Finally. I do apologise again for the long wait. I truly appreciated your patience and I do hope you’ll love the second and last chapter as well. I read all your comments, tags and reblogs, and I treasured all of them. Thank you for the time you spend reading my work!


Part II / II
Part I is here


Demetra Trevelyan X Cullen Rutherford, NSFW


“There you are.” Dorian’s voice interrupted her reading, as the mage marched inside the hidden library under Josie’ office “Why are you working here, in this dark and smelly place?”
“It’s not smelly!” Demetra protested weakly, closing the ancient volume in front of her. She wasn’t able to concentrate in any case. Yawning, the Inquisitor rubbed her swollen eyes. Blessed Maker, she needed a good night of sleep so badly. Dorian shrugged “I’m glad at least you tidied up this place a bit. Now, I’m here to invite you to have a drink with your handsome Tevene friend.”
“I don’t drink, Dorian.” she forced a smile “And I fear I wouldn’t be a good company today.”
“Fine.” Dorian sat graciously on the simple seat in front of her desk “Let’s skip the tavern part, it was an excuse anyway, and arrive straight to the explanations.”
“About?” she prompted, leaning heavily on her more luxurious seat.
“About why you barely eat, speak, and spend your time hidden in this library.”
She bit her lip, lowering her eyes “Dorian, I would rather not…”
“And why Cullen spends his time buried between his reports and the armory, brooding more than usual, and scaring the living life out of whoever tries to make him sleep, eat or speak.”
Demetra clenched her jaw, looking at some scratches on the old desk surface. She didn’t want to talk about their fight. She didn’t want to say aloud how badly she had messed up. She didn’t want to tell Dorian she had tried to speak to Cullen, just to have him avoiding her.
She was sleeping in her bad alone since three days now, and she had no idea how to fix this. If this was something she could fix. Maker knew that if the situation was reverted she would put Cullen through the Void, so she truly couldn’t blame him for being so mad at her.
“Demetra.” Dorian’s voice was soft and he leant on the desk, grabbing gently the hand she was fisting “Fights between lovers can’t be solved refusing to talk to each other.”
“I tried.” she said, her glare fixed on their hands “He didn’t listen.”

Keep reading

Don’t touch whatever belongs to Min Yoongi. Don’t.

Honestly it’s really fucking cute when haters pop up doubting BTS and Yoongi because he’s been calling them out forever now. “Oh oh my haters, curse me some more. Keyboard warriors, please put effort into it. Yeah, just like that keep looking down on me, proving you wrong is my hobby.( We On)” Literally he’s the one who had to choose between eating cheap and walking home or eating even cheaper and riding the bus home. All in the name of music. All so he could work in his studio for no pay and struggle with a feeling of incompetence/depression when he literally performed for only a pair of people. A pair. Like two people. 

That’s why he didn’t think it was wrong to be an idol, because fuck it, some people can barely survive while only doing music. Yet, that’s all Yoongi wanted to do. That was the most important thing for him and he couldn’t imagine giving up music or shoving it the the side for another job. He’s being realistic, he’s making a living while doing something he loves and that path happens to be one of an idol. What did he get in turn for giving up everything else, for leaving home, for dancing at early hours in the morning, for lacking sleep and food and going through rigorous training? What did he gain from finding a median to allow him to keep dreaming? Unwarranted hate.

“You’re idols so even without a listen I can tell it sucks, I don’t like your lyrics even if I don’t see it it’s a video. Since you don’t have much power you must have done some dirty stuff, seeing the things you do you’ll fail soon. (Two!Three!)” You really think that came from nowhere? Of course not. He’s literally been called, to his face with others watching, an “icon” for girls, not “real” hip hop just rap. They called him an “industrialized icon” and not music To. His. Face. And that’s right, he didn’t have power. He sat there listening to these so called, self proclaimed “experts” of hip hop gang up on him.

But the funny thing is BTS and Min Yoongi were bound to gain popularity, they were bound to be recognized, way more than these hip hop experts could ever dream of; why? Because “during that time, at the least, I slept less and moved more.(Agust D)” Also because he’s had truckloads of more experience and because he, as a person, always gives and cares for fans. Being a bling bling “icon” for girls? Fine. Why not? As long as his music was doing what he always wanted it to, giving a voice/ energy/ hope/ warmth to the people who didn’t have it. “I can withstand tiring and harsh trips back and forth from work because my people are watching. Even if my body hurts, i can withstand it because the screams come crashing. The difference between pre and post debut, even while living on a line between rapper and idol my notebook is full of rhymes. Between the waiting room and stage i hold a pen and write lyrics, this is me, in your eyes what has changed? Damn shit i’m the same, I changed? Go and reiterate i didn’t change and guarded my roots i’m still rapperman. (Born singer)” Hard working and a true pinnacle of somebody who does everything for music and to connect with fans. It’s no surprise he got fame, unimaginable fame that shut out all the “real” hip hop haters and made them admit, in shame, they were schooled.

He’s always built a wall because of this, and Yoongi does a good job of hiding it. We’ve never seen Min Yoongi openly cry. He’s always managed to hold back. He’d pat his members on the back, he’d smile at them, he’d hug them, but he’d never cry. Because to those just waiting for their time to pounce back, to them it’s a weakness. “아… 아이돌 다 됐내.” You’re just fully an idol now… that’s exactly how they’d belittle him. But look at him. Finishing tours successfully, breaking records, dominating charts world wide. He spreads more music and leaves more of his legacy in the k-hiphop scene than anybody who’s ever talked ill about him. So yes, he deserved this award. He deserved it so much. Because even if it hurt him inside he knew how harsh reality was, he took the title that was slaughtered and seen through colored lenses and he bore it proudly even if people tried to break his back with it. He made music, he lived his dream and this was the physical proof of his effort. “That’s right, keep (hating) on and on. We’ll be happy by ourselves, good yeah i’m good (Two! Three!)”

That’s why haters are pointless. “Take it away from them? It was stolen from ______? They don’t deserve it?” Give me a fucking break, do yourself a favor and get over it. You can’t steal this glory from him, you can’t for a second downplay it. This was all him. It was all his. (As this is a Yoongi appreciation post i’m using singular nouns) but seriously. The countless doubts and ridicule he faced to produce something that would make a wide audience happy is rewarding him and being recognized. So don’t you dare, ever, not even for a second, argue that he didn’t deserve this. And don’t you dare call him out for finally releasing his emotions because he’s achieved his goal. This is his moment, his year, his prize. 건드리지마 손도 대지마 “Don’t touch it, what’s mine, don’t even put a hand on it.” (Give it to me). Don’t touch whatever belongs to Min Yoongi. Don’t.

Protection - Part 5 (Roman Reigns x OFC)

Only reblogs, not reposting (anywhere else) please!! xx

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 + masterlist 

A/N: I did it, I did it! So this is when things actually get interesting, yay! Now, I’m extremely tired and might have left a thousand mistakes in there, so my apologies. I am posting this because I can’t wait, but if you see any mistakes or anything, do let me know and I’ll fix it! Also, this chapter starts ahead of time and then has a flashback, so don’t get worried thinking you missed a part! You didn’t. It’s all good.

Warnings: Swearing (a lot), angst galore, mentions assault (and training against it)

Word count: 4289

Tagging (normal list + Roman story tags): @hardcorewwetrash @imagineall-the-fandoms @imagines–assemble @insearchofsunlight @blondekel77 @thiickreigns @m-a-t-91 @valeonmars @littlemissava13 @nuroxic @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @superrezzy00 @momis30 @laochbaineann @alexispoo @taryndbiase @reigns420 @horcruxhunter5972 @xfirespritex @wrestlewriting @heelcharlie @archiveseb @wwefangirl69 @oreillyskyle @gingertalksshit @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @princess3733 @ridingmoxley @ehvil7 @caramara3 @alexahood21 @rocketgirl2410 @flawlessglamazon @mrsamberlopezgoodanoai @xxmaddhatter39xx @ii-love-roman-reigns @roman-reigns-princess @littledeadrottinghood @castielscamander @sleeplessandcynical @ashleyh28 @theayushijain @hardykat @queenreignsempire @it-is-reigning-men @theclosetdreams @bbmbabe @wildandfreepinkv0dka @ringsidexdreaming

Enjoy! Comment please ! xx

Originally posted by leakees

Keep reading

Coming Home

Set after 6x14 – Killian returns and Emma finds him sitting on the steps of the front porch, in front of their house.
Word Count: 824
Read it on ao3 here ~ Read my other fics here 


Emma could feel her fingers going numb even though she had her gloves on. She didn’t mind – the cold nipping at her made her feel better than she had in the last two days. She hadn’t even driven the bug to the loft, which didn’t help her case. Every time she thought of the loft, she would picture the pitying glances she got from her parents, Regina, and Henry. Instead of it giving her consolation, she felt white, hot anger every time she thought of that. She chose to think about that instead of him. Instead of how it had felt to come back to an empty house – to know he had left; to know he had abandoned her. Which was why, as she hurried towards the house, she stopped short in complete shock. Relief spread through her as she saw him sitting on the porch. He looked up at her and she could see how unsure he was about her reaction.

“Killian,” she barely whispered, not moving. It was as if he was an illusion that would shatter the second she moved towards him.

“Emma,” he responded, standing up, trying to hide the crushing guilt that he felt when she didn’t walk towards him. It was one of those rare times where he wasn’t able to read her emotions behind her expression of shock. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. There was a deafening silence before he said, “I’m sorry.”

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anonymous asked:

Okay I swear your artwork is amazing like literally, you are now one of my top five favorite artists on Tumblr. Also, I saw that you sometimes answer requests? If you do, could you please (like I'm begging on my knees please) draw Demon!Sam and Angel!Dean just going out for a really cheesy date? (The more bad puns the better). Thanks for reading this! Have a nice day!

Dean frowned.

Why?

Because, Sam - although being taken on a perfectly cheesy, romantic, share-a-fucking-milkshake date - was frowning, glaring down at his hand and staring solemnly at the ketchup as if it was the one to fling him from heaven.  Dean found the whole brooding thing quite offensive, and propped one naked foot onto the booth seats and leaned further into his brother.

“Hey, uh, Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome, what’s with the long face?”  He asked, laying his head on Sam’s shoulder and Sam gave him a passive side glance.  The demon proceeded to then have the audacity to look around the mostly empty diner, as if Dean could have possibly been speaking to someone else.

“Yeah, you - the only ‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome’ around,” when assured he had Sam’s attention, he continued, although the demon looked to still only be half listening, “I have you here on this awesomely romantic, classic milk shake date, and you’re still all this.”  And with that word he gestured to his face, to the faux grim frown, and Sam’s eyebrow quirked.

“What ever do you mean?”  Sam drawled, resting his cheek on one fist and Dean found that better than Broody-Mc-Pouty-face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not here for the last thirty minutes of me babbling about how weird human toes were?  Because I was legit doing that.  Hell - you agreed to paint my nails, and to let me braid your hair you were so distracted.”  Dean said, threw one hand out in exasperation, and Sam chuckled.  Improvement, at least.

“I was just thinking on how to rid myself of one certain destroyer of my ‘bad assery’.”  Sam quoted Dean’s previous words, and Dean gave him an amused glance.

“Oh, yeah?”  Dean asked, looking up into Sam’s black eyes - he noted how Sam stopped hiding them now, and that was something that made Dean’s heart flip more times than necessary - and Sam shot him a small smirk.

“Yeah, I figured if I’m to go all out, I need to really perfect my image.”

“Dye your hair black, that’ll help.”

Sam seemed to ponder that a moment, looking up to the ceiling and Dean near giggled at the serious look of contemplation.  “There’s a thought.”  Sam finally said, stroking his chin and Dean turned onto his knees, leaning over into Dean’s lap and hands resting on Sam’s knees.

“Oh, maybe file your teeth too, get them pointy - also, why not we get you some tear drop tattoos?”

“Black lipstick?”  Sam shot back, and Dean nodded with a hissed laugh.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.  You’ll be on everyone’s fuck list.”

“Hm…”  Sam stroked his chin again, “well if I’m going all out then shouldn’t you do so as well?”  Sam eyed him, and Dean quirked a brow.

“Aren’t I already?  I mean, look at this face - totally innocuous and trustworthy.”

“Yes, but..”  Sam leaned forward, tracing Dean’s lips and cheeks.  “Why not a little bit of pink lipstick, maybe some rosy red blush for your nose and cheeks - become a pretty princess to stand for the ‘truly good’.”  Sam quoted that, scoffing, and Dean personally felt that one.  

Seemed these days the ‘good guys’ were all sorts of assholes.

“Okay, but - then you hafta’ buy yourself a nice leather outfit, complete with chains and choker.”  Dean said, eyeing Sam and trying - and failing miserably - to picture Sam in a gaudy trench coat littered with chains and upside down crosses.

“Then you’ll have to put on a nice, frilly pink dress.”

“Fuck you, I’d look fabulous.  You’d look like a giant poser dork.”

Sam pulled a face, thought a moment, then nodded, agreeing.  “You have a point, there.”

“Course’ I do, I’m always sorta right, in case you haven’t noticed.”  Dean said, tossing an old, soggy fry at Sam’s face and laughing when the demon threw a projectile of his own - a fry that had sat out even longer than Dean’s, resting so elegantly in the liquid that steadily perspired from their milkshake.

“Oh - yes, you’ve never been wrong before - that’s why your garrison almost caught you with me when you decided going to a fucking church to have your weird fantasies play out was a good idea.”  Sam hissed through his teeth, playfully glaring down at Dean and Dean couldn’t rebuttal that one as well as he would’ve liked to.  His face flared red, ears burning and he looked to the side, glaring a moment at the lovely family seated some tables away from them.

They all looked to be having such a nice time, perfect wife, perfect husband, perfect two kids and whatever amount on the way, and Dean childishly stuck his tongue out at the youngest child when it stopped smashing it’s pancakes with grubby fingers to look at them with wide eyes.

“Hey, Dean, you know I’m messing with you, right?”  Sam said, face worried and Dean turned to look back at him with a reddened face and mix of playful hurt.

“B-but, Sammy, you know I don’t kink shame you, a-and the thought that you -” he broke off there, pitching his tone high and stuttering for effect only to have the demon give him an unimpressed curve of brow.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”  Sam deadpanned and Dean’s face instantly turned sour, puckering his lips in a pout.

“What if I cry?”

“I’ll salt your wounds.”  Sam gestured dangerously to the salt sitting all innocent like on the table and Dean gulped, flopping onto Sam’s lap fully now and finding comfort in the dark trap between table and Sam’s jean clad thighs.

“Spoil sport.”

“Kinky fucker.”

“You’re kinkier.”  Dean shot back, all childlike-eloquence, and Sam could only shrug a shoulder at that.

“You got me there.”

“Yeah, and you got me here right now, so let’s go back to discussing how exactly I’m going to braid your pretty hair.”

“I didn’t agree to that-”

Oh, but you did, now, do you want the dutch braid, or the french braid?”

“Neither.”

Dean just grinned devilishly, because Sam had to rest his eyes sometimes - humans had some things down correctly, and sleep was pretty bad ass when you needed a break from heaven-hell politics.

And the second Sam deemed it time to take a break?  Dean would so be ready with the perfect tutorials to have Sam waking the prettiest demon of the bunch.

-

THERES NO PUNS BC IM TERRIBLE BUT HERE ENJOY MY FROND

also hehehehe glad u like my stuff, makes my cold ded artist heart all fuzzy on the inside :’)

anonymous asked:

More musical things please! I love them. Possibly flintwood? (If that's okay Xx)

this is for my @hpminorcharnet‘s ongoing get to know the members challenge: favourite minor characters - oliver wood + marcus flint

I’d heard about him before, I wanted to know some more,
and now I know what they mean, he’s a love machine.

  • Oliver’s obsession interest with Marcus Flint developed when they both became captains of their respective Quidditch teams 
  • They both got given the role at the same time and, Oliver quickly learnt, Marcus had already obtained a great reputation both within and outside the sport 
  • He was obviously a very aggressive and competitive player, something Oliver was happy to rival, but he was surprised to hear about Marcus’ social life 
  • “I heard he snogged all the Slytherin girls in his year last term!” One Ravenclaw whispered to him as he walked to practice one day 
  • “He just looks at one of the girls in our class and they swoon at his feet” another Gryffindor murmured, elbowing Oliver in the ribs when Marcus passed them in the corridor 
  • And Oliver was… interested, to say the least 
  • He was confused as to how this vibrant and vicious personality on the pitch could be so popular and sought after in day to day life 
  • How could anyone, Oliver wondered, want to be romantically involved with someone as crude and harsh as Marcus Flint?

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anonymous asked:

So, in regards to your D:M series, I was thinking. Himuro is really calm cool and collected. He has little to no shame and seems to be overall really confident in his position in life. My question is: is he always like this, or does he have moments of vulnerability in the face of, say, homophobia or something of the like? And if so, would Murasakibara notice and help him feel better, or would Himuro be really good at hiding it? We don't see much of them and so I was just curious. Thanks! :)

This trip back to America has brought out a whole bunch of revelations that Himuro doesn’t fully know how to process yet. It was one thing to readily accept that his old friend Nijimura Shuuzou had secretly been a genetically designed superhuman all along, it is another thing entirely to learn that Himuro’s own father was involved with a different organization that dealt with genetically altered human beings.

But at least Murasakibara was here with him, and he seems to be scaring the crap out of Himuro’s father, so.

At least there’s that.

*

It had been sheer perversity for Himuro to say, “Atsushi, would you like to visit America with me? You can meet my father.” And in all honesty, he rather expected Murasakibara to decline the offer. He was already wondering if he felt like trying to convince Murasakibara to come with him or if he should leave it well enough alone, but Murasakibara had surprised him by saying, “Sure, Murochin” without any kind of coaxing needed.

Providence had been a surprise to both of them.

*

Now, Himuro is doing something he never thought he would be in the position to do: introducing his boyfriend to his father.

Himuro Ryuichiro is an expressive man—his lips tighten at the sight of Murasakibara, he stands very stiffly, he occasionally flinches slightly if Murasakibara stands too close. This is a combination of things, Himuro figures: the fact that Murasakibara is dating his son, the fact that Murasakibara is a mutant, the fact that Murasakibara is over two meters tall and could crush anyone in his path.

At first, Himuro takes a great deal of joy in the fact that his father seemed scared of Murasakibara, but gradually it just makes him sad, and then sort of bitterly complacent. If Ryuichiro can’t approve of Murasakibara, then at least he knows not to pick fights with him. It’s a small consolation, but Himuro finds slight solace in it nonetheless.

*

“Is Murochin OK?”

“I’m fine, Atsushi,” Himuro says.

“Hmm. I could crush him, you know. Pretty easy. He’s tiny.”

Himuro smiles, and buries his face in Murasakibara’s shoulder. “Yes, Atsushi, thank you. It is very reassuring to know.”

*

“There are human men you could date, Tatsuya,” Ryuichiro says, his voice cool.

“Of course there are, but I don’t find them nearly as interesting,” Himuro replies blithely.

“Does he even have any kind of future planned?” Ryuichiru returns. “Does he have college or career in mind? Or is he just going to live off the celebrity of being a mutant?”

“I—” Himuro frowns, “Wait, are you criticizing him for being lazy?”

“I just don’t think you should invest in a relationship if he’s not going to be serious,” Ryuichiro says.

Himuro isn’t entirely sure what to say with that. His father has never talked about any of the men Himuro—well, dated is probably the wrong word. But still. His father mostly just pretended they didn’t exist. He didn’t have opinions about them.

“I have every faith he could be a professional basketball player,” Himuro ventures, just to see what would happen.

“Athleticism is a hobby, not a career, and I have told you that many times,” Ryuichiro says sharply. “Tatsuya, you know I just want what’s best for you.”

It’s just that Ryuichiro seems to think “what’s best” for him is a wife and two children in the suburbs. Himuro doesn’t say anything, and he’s sure nothing shows on his face, but Ryuichiro sighs anyway.

“If you are serious about this young man, then he better have a stable job. I will not tolerate you shackling yourself to dead weight.”

“No worries at all, father. I fully plan on him making lots of money and mooching off of him for the rest of my life. I’m pretty enough to be a trophy husband.”

Ryuichiro huffs and drops the subject, and Himuro wonders if he missed an opportunity.

*

Murasakibara leans on his back, so that his long arms drape over Himuro’s shoulders and Himuro ends up slouching a bit.

“I could still crush him,” Murasakibara ventures.

“I actually think we’re making progress,” Himuro says thoughtfully. “But thank you, Atsushi. That’s a solid backup plan.”



A/N: Thank you, anon-friend! I spent a long time thinking about your prompt because I figured that Himuro probably doesn’t get too upset about many things (emotional basketball outbursts nonwithstanding) but I think Murasakibara would notice if he did, and would have a very singular approach to making him feel better =) I also meant to write a MuraMuro follow-up after the end of “Your Heart Ain’t Cold” and then was super excited once I realized I could use this prompt to do that =D Also figured I’d combine it with the other prompt I had for parental interactions. (Still holding off on Kagami due to lack of headcanons). Thanks again anon-friends!! Hope you enjoyed!!

The Dragon and I (DenNor/SuFin)

Thank you all for the support! I’m having the time of my life writing this small story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.  Part I.


Berwald thought he got free quite easily.

“Screw him” He said aloud without noticing two big purple eyes that were staring at him.

“Screw who?” A strong voice asked with curiosity.

“Magnus…” But soon Berwald realized that someone or something was talking back at him.

“Why? What did he do?” The creature asked naturally.

Berwald almost fainted there. Almost in front of him was another dragon. But this one seemed a little bit friendlier than the other one.

“He…” Berwald thought that was it. He was going to die right there.

A light-blue dragon was staring at him. Berwald noticed that the creature was smiling. Could dragons even do that? The animal looked like he was entertained.

“What?” The dragon couldn’t tell what the matter was.

“You are a dragon” Berwald calmly explained.

“So? You were in a cave with another dragon” The creature reminded him.

Berwald was trying to think in a way to get out of that situation.

“That dragon let me out and I ‘m hoping you do the same” Berwald wasn’t sure how to ask it nicely. It was a dragon after all.

The animal shook his head.

“Everyone here comes to visit Sigurd and nobody comes for me!” The dragon complained “Do you know how boring it is? At least Sigurd gets visitors, but nobody cares about me!” He roared.

“The myth only talks about one dragon, not two” Berwald explained him.

“What do I have to do to be noticed? I have never killed humans or instigated fires” The dragon felt bad.

“Well, I do acknowledge you now” Berwald was surprised by the whole situation. He was trying to comfort a dragon.

The animal waved his tail, causing the fall of some trees. Yet couldn’t stop looking at the human. He reminded him of someone but he couldn’t tell who.

“You are a nice human” The dragon suddenly said and then he saw the sword “Do you realize that a sword doesn’t work with us? I mean, you have to get very lucky to get a dragon to show its belly to you”

“I think you shouldn’t tell people how to kill you in the first place” Berwald was somehow afraid for the dragon. What if the animal encounter a person that actually wanted to kill it?

“Ooops!” The dragon was so happy to have someone to talk to that he revealed a little bit too much.

“Can I go now? My stupid partner is inside that cave but I guess if he can survive that, maybe he’ll catch on” Berwald was still mad about the fact that Magnus tried to turn on him.  

“But I’m going to be all alone!” The dragon complained once more “I don’t like to be alone” He explained with a sad tone.

“I… Well…” Berwald didn’t have a solution. He was afraid that he was going to stay there forever. He felt bad for the dragon though.

“Can you be my friend? I like Sigurd but sometimes he is a little bit grumpy for my taste?”  The animal requested.

“Sure, I guess…” He wasn’t the one who was going to say no to a damn dragon that could eat him in just a couple of minutes if it wanted to.

“Are you going somewhere? Can I go with you?” The dragon was about to burst of excitement.

“You are going to drag a lot of attention” Berwald said.

“Oh, if my current appearance is a problem, then I can switch” The creature confessed.

All of the sudden there was a lot of wind and Berwald was forced to hide his face with his clothing and it stopped the same way that it arrived.

“Is this better?” The dragon asked.

When Berwald was finally able to see, he was shocked. There was a relative small chubby guy where the dragon was supposed to be. And completely naked which made him blush.

“I guess…” Berwald was too surprised to even make a coherent response.

The dragon giggled and walked towards the adventurer with no shame at all.

“Can you lend some clothes? I tend to ripped them all when I transform” He requested.

Berwald nodded.

Could a dragon be as cute as that guy? Berwald thought while looking thought his backpack. He finally managed to get some and gave it to the dragon.

“Thank you!” The creature said.

“I think we are going to buy you some new clothes in the market” He soon realized that his clothes were too big for the creature, which was ironic considering that the animal actually was almost four meters long and three meters tall, at least.

“I’m Tino!” The dragon introduced himself “I didn’t want to be rude, sorry.”

“Berwald, nice to meet you” Berwald replied before putting on his backpack.

When they were about to leave, a sudden scream stopped them.

“Berwald, wait!” Magnus was running and a young man was following him.

Tino smiled when he realized that Sigurd was coming too.

“So you survived, huh?” Berwald couldn’t believe it.

“Can you at least pretend that you are happy about it?” Magnus complained about the way he was greeting him “Are you still salty about it?”

“Wouldn’t you be mad about it?” Berwald wasn’t really shocked about his attitude anyways.

But the conversation ended quickly when they realized that Sigurd and Tino were talking to each other.

“Why are you here? This is my mountain” Sigurd didn’t look happy at all. Well, he never was but still he was shocked that Tino was there.

“I smelled the humans and since I’ve never gotten visitors, I wanted to meet them!” Tino explained “Don’t be mad at me, please” He begged to the other dragon.

“I’m not mad. Just… Whatever. I’m glad to see you. It’s been… Like two hundred years or so?” Sigurd couldn’t remember exactly.

“Since the Incident” Tino said with a serious face.

“The Incident?” Magnus was way too curious. The whole situation was pretty weird.

“We don’t talk about the Incident ever” Sigurd explained to him.

“But you are talking about the Incident right now” Berwald remarked.

Sigurd rolled his eyes. He was glad that Tino was there.

“Wait” Magnus noticed a big detail “Who is that?” He pointed out Tino.

“I can say the same to you” Berwald replied.

“Dragons” They responded at the same time.

And just like that, our two adventurers didn’t get any treasures at all but at least they got two dragons! But they were about to find out why some legends just need to stay like legends.

#9: Meeting siblings:

Badboy!Highschool!5SOS;

A/n: OK, this is quite short and it might be my lest favorite update. honestly I feel like this one is shit, and it’s just a filler and yeah sorry about that. but I promise the next part will be hella long and the good parts are about to come I hope, and well get some good badboy action so… hang in there? I’m sorry


Luke:

Creaking the door open, (y/n) warily stepped into the Hemmings household, her eyes carefully inspecting her surroundings. Sure, she had been inside the house more times than she could count, but never had she entered without permission. Technically, she was granted permission, Luke’s text from earlier asking her to come in. Their plans to get some studying done for the finals were made a few days ago, agreeing on meeting in the library. However, Luke had other thoughts in mind, asking her to come by his house as he was nearly ready and suggested to give her a ride.

Her eyes were taking in her entourage, recalling every memory she had lived inside his house. The walls were witnesses of every baby step she took, telling stories of two little toddlers running around in loud giggles, bearing memories she held close to her heart.

Her head turned abruptly at the sound of footsteps, and she quickly grabbed her bag as she noticed the familiar blond locks. However, her mouth hung open upon realizing that the person she was faced with was not Luke. Although the resemblance was far too outstanding to go unnoticed, the man’s features strikingly familiar. His eyes were just as puzzled as hers, raising a questioning hand as his eyes narrowly stared at her. His mouth opened and closed a few times, until he finally managed to croak out a few words, “What- You came in- Do we know you?”

“Luke- Luke asked me, I –um- I’m just waiting for him.” She stumbled at her words, heat filling her up due to her embarrassment. She should’ve just waited outside! But as she was expecting reprimanding words to come out of the blond’s mouth, she was confused by the smirk he wore on his face as he eyes her.

“So you’re the girl, huh,” He mumbled –mainly to himself. (y/n) creased her eyebrows together at his words, tilting her head in a question manner; “w-what?” She whispered, what girl? “Oh come on, we all knew a girl was involved,” The man shrugged, taking a hand out of his pocket as he offered it to shake, “I’m Jack by the way.”

Relief flooded her at his words, the uneasiness leaving her body as she remembered him. Although she was fairly familiar with Ben –the eldest Hemmings- her encounters with Jack were few. Jack on the other hand was eyeing her with amusement, knowing instantly that he’d be teasing Luke about it for as long as he could. Little behavior changes never went unnoticed by him, especially not when it came to his younger brother. He had indeed been suspecting that someone was responsible, most probably a girl that had him whipped. Still, he never expected to see her in flesh, knowing Luke’s private nature.

“Ready to go?” Luke’s voice echoed through the empty house, his feet hopping down the stairs in a hurry as he slid his hands through his jacket. At his cue, (y/n) threw her bag over her shoulder, giving Jak one last smile as she turned around. “You know, mum’s gonna want to meet you.” He chuckled at her, stopping her midway. He was very much entertained by the whole scenery, more than eager to tease his baby brother –and embarrass him most likely.

“I- I already met her,” (y/n) spoke up, waiting for Luke to gather his stuff as the awkwardness becoming a little too much for her to handle. But in all honesty, Jack’s reaction was quite priceless. His eyes brows knitted in confusion, a sigh leaving his mouth; “How come I’m always out of the loop! How did you meet her?” He whined, feeling like he was left out of the story whilst he wanted to know every detail.

“She’s our neighbor you dumbass,” Luke spoke from behind you, his hand reaching out to the small of your back to guide you outside, his own backpack held in his other hand. “Wait!” His brother’s voice stopped them, the two looking back at him. “You can’t be (y/n). Little bug (y/n)?” Jack’s smile grew wider as he watched her hide her face in her hands, chuckling because she hadn’t been called that ever since she turned six. “How’s Josh doing? I haven’t seen him in a while.” He and Josh was inseparable as kids, much like their younger siblings. “He’s alright, he’s coming home soon,” (y/n) answered, finally feeling like the tension was fully lifted. Luke’s eyes gazed at her, a small smile on his lips as he did so. Something about the way she already seemed like a part of his family made his heart swell, the interaction between her and his brother meaning much more to him than he could explain.

After bidding Jack goodbye, Luke’s hand guided (y/n) out, the cold air hitting them as soon as they left the house. “You look a lot like him,” (y/n) spoke up once they were seated inside his car, her eyes staring at him, gauging his reaction. Luke’s gaze didn’t shift from the road, but a smile made its way to his lips as he spoke, “He’s someone I really admire, so it means quite a lot to hear that.” (y/n)’s hand found his free one, lacing them together as her words failed to express the feeling welling up inside of her.

Calum:

Her phone buzzed for the third time, making her answer it abruplty, a scowl visible on her face, “What?” she barked, rolling her eyes at the voice on the other end. “I miss you too baby” Calum’s voice sang on the other side, and as much as she hated it, she couldn’t fight back the smile on her face. She could literally feel him grin as he spoke the words. “Calum, I swear I’m two seconds away from killing you,” She teased, jumping off of her bed, phone still in hand. “But I want to see my baby girl,” His whines earned nothing more than an eyeroll from her, chuckling albeit at his childlike behavior. “It’s a girl’s night baby, which means no boyfriend calls.”

(y/n) glanced back at the two girls lying on her bed, their teasing smiles making her turn around instantly. The phone call didn’t last long, as she was quick to dismiss her pouty boyfriend, bidding him a goodnight mischievously before she hung up. Turning back, she hopped on the bed, giving a warning look to her friends, already expecting the teasing. “Who is that?” the question was fired just as anticipated, a giggly laugh escaping her lips, her hands covering her face. “My boyfriend,” She ushered out, heat rising to her cheeks at the mere thought.

Shocked glances were exchanged between the two girls, huffing at how they weren’t informed earlier. That was the main reason she had wanted a girl’s night, planning a sleepover with her friends. Surely, her friends at school were obviously informed of her relationship status, the news of her and Calum known to the whole school. But the two girls she had over didn’t go to school with her –much to her dismay. They were a few years older than her, the roots of their friendship running back to the summer camps she used to go to as a child.

“Spill! Who is he? What is he like?” The questions were thrown in a hurry, the room quickly filling with excited laughs. (y/n) lied down on her pillows, a sheepish look on her face as she stared at the eager girls. Well, she wasn’t about to hide anything from them, really.

“What is Calum like?” She mumbled to her self, her expression turning into one of awe and tenderness at the thought of the boy who invaded her every thought. “He’s turning me into a mess. Most of the time he’s a cheeky bastard that knows how to tick me off; at other times he’s so unpredictable. But then,” (y/n) Stopped, taking in a deep breath as her chest felt heavier with the emotions she held for him, “But then, he has these moments where he makes me feel like it’s just me and him. The way he looks at me and talks to me just takes my breath away. And right now, my chest feels like it’s on fire just by talking about him.” (y/n) bit down on her lip, her fingers fiddling together, the pillow case suddenly feeling too cold for her burning face.

The rest of the night carried on, the girls urging her to spill every detail, teasing her every now and then about her blushing cheeks. And as she got lost in telling the various stories she shared with him, she couldn’t stop her heart from yearning to see him.

Although, she hadn’t expected to find him at her doorstep first thing in the morning, a wide smile on his face as he greeted her. She was walking her friends out, complaining about how early they had to leave when she was faced with him, his hands tucked behind his back as he smiled sheepishly at her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug, mindful of her friends behind her who wouldn’t let her live if they were to witness excessive PDA. “Well, it’s the morning, so technically your girl’s night is over,” Calum cheekily replied, his hands pulling her closer as he spoke. Her eyes widened as she took in his full appearance, her hand reaching out to touch his trimmed hair, “You shaved your head?” She scolded, yet as soon as he hand touched the short strands of hair she found herself smiling. “I miss your curls, but I like this.” She chuckled, playfully patting his head, his face breaking into a huge grin that displayed his sublime dimples.

A cough broke the two from their bubble, their heads spinning back. “Mali? What are you doing here?” Calum asked, making (y/n) send him a questioning look. “Nice catch you got there, brother.” The blond girl spoke, a million-dollar smile on her face. Realization flooded (y/n) quickly, her eyes widening at the situation. Stuttering and ‘excuse me’, her feet ran before she could register what was going on, her hands covering her face in shame. Oh my god! Of course she’ll tell him, oh my god! Her thoughts ran wild, but were cut short as a pair of arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace.

“What’s wrong babe?” Calum chuckled in her ear, his cheeks pressing against hers as he snuggled closer to her. “Did you like say something embarrassing about me?” his phrase made (y/n) turn abruptly in his arms, her eyes scolding him. If only he knew. “Don’t you dare ask her about anything!” she scowled as she pointed her finger at him, and he couldn’t help but comply, her pleading eyes affecting him more than he liked to admit.

“Alright,” He agreed, “But maybe someday, you can tell me,” His words were hushed, meant only for her ears to hear. His thumb was soothingly rubbing her cheek, his arm wrapped around her waist. Maybe I’ll be able to tell you just how much you affect me, he wanted to add but bit his lip. Surely, Mali-koa would have his ass for the upcoming years, teasing him about how whipped he was and how much of a lost puppy he became when it involved her. if he had to endure that then so be it, because at the end of the day he knew it was all true; he knew that your fingers played with the strings of his heart without even realizing it.

A/n: ok yall only after writing his part did I realize that NO it’s fucking unrealistic to be friends with someone for so long and not know their second name hence hood and make the connection, so sorry about it pretend it works alright bebs, lol I’m a mess sorry

Michael:

“Did you ever like, play some fancy instruments as a child?” (y/n) asked Michael who was walking right beside her, her eyes amusingly watching him. “You know, like in the movies.” She added. Surely, she had always believed rich families always learned how to play instruments, movies being her only insider.

Michael sighed, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to bring her closer. “They taught me piano,” He mumbled, “They tried to get me to learn violin as well but I sucked balls at it. So I ended up learning guitar because I liked it most, though they’re not very fond of it.”

“But you’ll play for me someday, yeah?” She mused after a long silence, moving her head from his shoulder to look up at him. Michael was ready to fire a ‘no’, the request far from his comfort zone or preference. But as soon as his eyes landed on her, her eyebrows raised in question, he found himself giving her a little nod. “Someday” He murmured.

Coming to a stop, the two stood in front of the elementary school, her eyes scanning the scenery for the small four year old. Since her parents were out of town due to some family business, she was left responsible for her younger brother. Michael, having heard about that, insisted on tagging along –if she didn’t mind of course. Which left the two walking towards the elementary school her brother studied at.

“(y/n)!” A high-pitch scream attracted their attraction, a little boy running towards her and wrapping his arms around her legs as best as he could. “Hey there little man,” Michael joined in, crouching in front of the toddler, an inviting smile on his face. Noah turned around to face him, the shy smile on his face reminding Michael of (y/n). The little kid seemed dazed for a second by the punk boy squatting in front of him, the burning red color of his hair capturing his full attention. Finally, Noah managed to look away, glancing at his big sister who sent him a reassuring nod, before he introduced himself to Michael, “Hi, my name is Noah. I like your hair.” He exclaimed happily. Ruffling his hair, Michael offered a genuine smile to the younger boy, “Why thank you Noah, I’m Michael.” And with that, you ushered the two boys to get going so you could reach the house in time.

Stopping at the front door, (y/n) fiddled with the key in her hand before she opened it, allowing the three of them to get inside. But as Noah went flying to his bedroom, mumbling about grabbing toys for him and his new friend to play with, Michael and (y/n) were left alone at the entrance. She found herself fiddling with the hem of her school uniform that she was still wearing, eyes the tall boy cautiously. She had been inside his house, and she knew it was nothing like hers, thus feeling somewhat insecure as his eyes roamed the small space. “It’s not much, but it’s just the four of us.” She found herself mumbling.

“It’s a home. I like it.” Michael spoke softly, his words laced with sadness. He couldn’t look away from the decorated wall, displaying multiple family pictures. But unlike the frigid portrait that hung in his own house, the pictures were full of laughter and joy. (y/n) felt guilty as she finally realized that whilst she was insecure about her modest home, Michael didn’t have an actual one.

“I got my cars and trucks! Do you want to play?” The tension was cut by Noah’s words, the little boy running with his collection of toys in his hands. He insisted on playing with Michael, the two boys sitting in the living room and making loud car noises.

Meanwhile, (y/n) was busy making a snack for her brother and ordering pizza for her and Michael. Once the delivery boy came, the hot pizza was quickly devoured as they all sat on the couch, watching Big Hero 6 at Noah’s request. And as he got sleepy, (y/n) offered to take him up to his room, but the toddler declined her offer and went to cuddle Michael instead. Her heart fluttered at the action, admiration clouding her thoughts at the sight in front of her.

“You know, he’s normally very shy. He doesn’t open up quickly just to anybody.” (y/n) whispered so as not to wake up the sleeping boy, sending a smile to Michael as she said so. “Well then,” Michael began, his words getting caught in his throat as he glanced at Noah, “Maybe he knows I mean well” He muttered, the fair skin of his cheeks flaming at his words.

Seeing as it was getting late, (y/n) offered to take her brother up to his room so she and Michael could watch another movie without disturbing his sleep. But as soon as she left to put Noah in his bed, Michael found his mind drifting to her. He wondered how he could have missed out on her all of those years, how he could miss someone as amazing at her.

Ashton:

(y/n) walked out of the school with a scowl on her face, re-reading the text she had received a few minutes ago. Ashton was held back in detention along with his friend Calum, the reason behind it kept hidden from her. She sighed as she made her way towards her car, stopping only as she noticed someone else standing not far from her. Actually, he was standing right next to Ashton’s car. Puzzled, (y/n) walked closer to him, pondering whether she wanted to adress him or not. But at the sight of his Golden locks, she found herself approaching the boy.

“Hey,” She said, earning his attention, “are you waiting for someone?” she asked. The boy turned to face her, his eyes warily looking at her. He looked around 7 or 8 years old, his backpack tugged over his shoulders, his figure tense as he carefully eyes his surrounding. He nodded at her words, “For my brother, he’s supposed to drive us home.”

(y/n) offered a warm smile, understanding the situation at hand. “Is Ashton your brother?” and again her words were answered by a nod, “He’s held back in detention. Did you come here by yourself?” She asked, looking for any company he might have had. “Yes, my school isn’t that far.”

She kept silent for a little while, wondering how she could help him as Ashton wasn’t leaving until a couple of hours. “Say, How about I drive you home? Do you know the road?” She offered, before adding “I’m a friend of your brother, I’ll send him a text.” which soothed the boy, as he finally agreed to ride with her.

Once they had reached the Irwin’s home, the younger boy led her in, explaining how his sister was already home. But (y/n) felt uneasy about leaving the two alone at the house, at least until their big brother came, so she offered to stay with them. The two agreed instantly to her request, especially after her offer to make Mac’n’cheese.

Ashton almost broke the door handle as he stepped him, his heart pounding in his chest as his frantic eyes roamed the house. Fuck! He didn’t think he’d get held back at detention that day, resulting into him feeling like he was on fire for the past hours as he begged the teacher to let him go. With his mother out of town, he was held responsible for his younger siblings, and she insistently instructed that he would have to pick up Harry with him since the walk from school was really far.

But as his mind was busy worrying about his brother, he did not anticipate to find (y/n) on his couch, a ball of popcorn on her lap as she watched a movie along with his brother and sister. His loud entrance had caught the attention of the three, (y/n) carefully getting up and walking towards him. “How did you-?” Ashton mumbled, feeling puzzled yet thankful. (y/n) simply took her hand in his, guiding him outside so they could talk freely.

Standing on the porch, (y/n) took her time to explain how she had found Harry by their school, and went on from there until she reached where they were. Ashton only nodded at her words, a smile playing on his lips as he listened to her story. Truthfully, he had stopped listening once he figured that Harry must’ve walked to his school when he was too late to pick him up, focusing after that on her rather than her speech. “You’re not listening, are you?” (y/n) finally caught up on his act, smiling nonetheless at the golden boy. His smile was precious, the little dimples engraved on his cheeks showing as grinned at her. “Not really,” He whispered, his face leaning closer and closer towards her. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the feeling bubbling inside his stomach was urging him to keep going. Keep going until his lips finally touched her and their eyes shut closed at the feeling.

Smiling against his chapped lips, (y/n) pulled away slightly, her eyes still halfway closed as butterflies bees erupted in her belly. Ashton had already taken her breath away, along with every trace of sanity she had, but that one kiss was enough to send her over the moon and make her head dizzy.

“We should go inside, the kids are alone.” She mumbled, Ashton pulling her into another giggly kiss as his large hand moved to rest on the side of her neck. His smile was the epitome of sunshine and rainbows, and he couldn’t possibly stop himself from grinning. He had finally done the one thing he wanted to do ever since that first encounter at the hallway.

“Come one, I made Mack’n’cheese.” She bantered, getting up on her feet and pulling him by the hands. “Oh you did?” He excitedly asked, instantly standing up at her words. “And you’ll find it’s the best you’ll ever ever have!” She added, a victorious smile on her lips and boy he just wanted to feel them again, but she was already getting inside to heat a bowl for him.